Worshipped
by Cactus Kate
Summary: Stydia one-shot. Lydia Martin has never been worshipped before.


**worshipped**

**I made a thing.**

**Teen Wolf = not mine.**

* * *

She looked at him silently. A cold breeze sent a shiver down her spine, drifting in through the window through which he had entered her room. She laid there, perfectly still, as he approached the side of his bed. He flopped down on the bed and looked at her expectantly, bright brown eyes delving into hers before he swept his gaze down at the rest of her body briefly. An eyebrow shot up and he opened his mouth once, twice.

"Are you wearing-" She cut him off with a nod, looking away with some semblance of guilt. She hadn't expected him to come tonight. He normally didn't stop by after his game nights – not since he'd actually been playing and his father had started taking him out for dinner.

She hadn't thought his gaze could grow any warmer, but it did. She smiled weakly, words still caught in her throat.

"Why are you wearing my shirt?" He asked curiously, innocently, eyes beaming.

"I don't know, it was clean." Lydia spoke quickly, too quickly, voice trembling ever so slightly. She clenched her teeth as his face fell slightly.

She dropped her head back down against her pillow and stared, conflicted, up at her ceiling. Stiles remained silent next to her, but she could feel the tension. With an exasperated sigh, she flipped over to face him and touched his shoulder gently.

"Stiles." She hesitated. Since when had she become so open with Stiles of all people? But he had been there when no one else had, spending the night almost daily when she was too afraid to sleep on her own. "I wear it when I don't think you're coming. It makes me feel better."

He nodded and the ends of his lips turned up ever so slightly.

"You make me feel better," she said quietly, hardly believing she had been able to say it aloud. She pulled at the sheets between them and spoke more confidently. "Get under the sheets, it's cold."

He didn't need to be asked twice and rushed to join her in the warmth of her bed. In all the nights he had spent beside her recently, he had always remained on top of the covers while she slumbered beneath. He hit his head against the wall as he slid his legs under and she had to stifle a laugh. Typical. But once situated, he joined her on his side, looking at her quietly.

Her stomach grew heavy – he always had to ask permission. Unlike any of the boys she had had in this room before, Stiles had to ask permission. She closed her eyes, urging herself on. What did she have to lose? She stared back at him as she gingerly reached out to grab his hand. His eyes widened as she brought it up to her face, and then he needed no more encouragement.

For a moment, he kept his hand there, cradling her cheek as she lightly stroked the back of his hand. He moved to touch her hair, impossibly gentle, running his fingers through fine auburn strands. Lydia couldn't help her breath catching in her throat and continued to look back at him, the accepting look in her eyes all that he needed to go on.

He traced her cheek, down the line of her jaw, the side of her neck. Hand trembling, he repeated the action. She scooted closer, until she could feel his warm breath against her cheek. He moved his hands down, under the sheets, rubbing her shoulder timidly. His palm brushed against her breast and his eyes widened in apology. She smiled, closing her eyes. Recovered, he let his hand move down her side and passed her ribs, memorizing the curve of her waist. He kept his hand there at her hip, unwilling to go further when he realized that his shirt was all she wore.

She reached down and took his hand in her own, bringing it back up until it was between their faces. She looked at him once more and he saw that her eyes seemed wet. Tears? It couldn't be. He lost his train of thought as she brought his hand to her lips and kissed it gently, tenderly. It was his turn to move closer now and he took back his hand, wrapping his arm around the small of her back to bring her closer. She lifted her own hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat as she nestled her head against him, breathing in deeply.

"Thank you," she whispered, cut short when his lips enveloped hers.


End file.
